


Dashing Through the Soul

by whichoneisdestiel (dontrush)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Gen, I've never actually watched this show, Out of Character, i mean probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontrush/pseuds/whichoneisdestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an ambush leaves Sam Winchester dead, it's up to Dean and Cas to bring him back. Doing so brings them face-to-face with one hell of a mall Santa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dashing Through the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I have never seen a single episode of Supernatural. I wrote this fic for a friend using only the knowledge of the show I already had (i.e. none) with no additional research. I hope you enjoy it regardless.

The one flaw in the Winchesters’ plan was assuming a simple trip to the grocery store could end in anything but tears. Given their track record with pain and suffering, “blood” should have been on the shopping list long before any was spilled. But spilled it was, or rather _poured_ , since the sword which now skewered Sam Winchester through his breast pocket was hardly placed there accidentally. Sam staggered backwards, knocking over a festive holiday tree of soup cans. The demon that attacked him was distracted just long enough for Dean Winchester to ram it with his shopping cart. Dean made short work of the demon after that. 

Dean rushed to his brother, who was still breathing. “Sam!” he shouted, “Are you okay?” 

Sam looked at the blade jutting out from his body, its silver hilt sullied by his own blood. “I’m fine,” he said, smiling. 

“Wait, really?” Dean said.

“You never were one to pick up on sarcasm, were you?” Sam laughed. “Oh god, it hurts to laugh, but I just can’t stop myself.” He winced as he started to cough up blood.

“Goddammit Sam, you’re such an asshole!” Dean smiled in spite of himself to think his brother would stoop to jokes at a time like this. 

“So, this...this is how it all ends,” Sam whispered, voice fading. “In aisle three of the Food Lion, waste deep in SpaghettiOs cans.” He summoned the last of his strength to stifle a growing laugh. “Uh-oh,” he said.

“No,” Dean cried. “NO!” Moved to tears, he grabbed his brother’s motionless body. His awkward attempt at a hug only pushed the sword in further. In that brief moment of clarity, Dean had a single thought: _Castiel. Castiel will know what to do._ He picked up his brother’s body and ran to the parking lot.

***

Dean burst through the door of Castiel’s apartment. He laid Sam’s body on the futon and moved into the living room where Castiel was watching Nickelodeon. Castiel turned the volume down on the television and turned to Dean. “You’re back from the store,” he said. “I’ve been waiting.”

Dean wiped the sweat from his chiseled brow. “I’ve got bad news, Cas.” 

“Oh no.” Castiel stepped toward Dean as he frowned. “Did you forget to buy my Fruit Roll-Ups?”

“What? No—”

“Oh good!” Castiel smiled. “So you remembered my Fruit Roll-Ups.”

“That’s not important right now!” Dean shouted. “Look at me, Cas. Do you see anything wrong with this picture?”

He looked Dean over: his strong, blood-stained jawline; his tight, blood-stained shirt; his muscular, blood-soaked arms; his deft, flexible hands (also blood-soaked); his bold, questioning eyes. “What picture?” Castiel asked. “Is it in a frame somewhere or is it on your phone? I don’t see a picture anywhere.” 

“You have got to be—Sam is DEAD.”

“Oh. Again?”

Dean nodded. 

“Huh...” Castiel fingered his tie nervously. “Listen, did you remember my Fruit Roll-Ups or not because the suspense is really—”

“MY BROTHER IS DEAD, CAS!” Dean breathed heavily, trying to get ahold of himself. “One more word about Fruit Roll-Ups and you are getting zero snuggles tonight.”

Arms at his sides, Castiel looked at his shoes sheepishly. “But...I like snuggles.” 

“Then help me bring him back.” 

“Fine.” Castiel stood up from the couch. “But if we do this,” he said solemnly, “We may have to venture into hell itself.”

*** 

Dean tapped his foot in the Subway parking lot. Castiel emerged from the building carrying a small bag.

“I cannot believe you made me stop for lunch,” Dean said.

“It was completely necessary,” Castiel said, pulling a Fruit Roll-Up from the bag. “I assure you.”

Dean sighed. “Just get back in the truck, Cas.”

Castiel stepped into the passenger seat as Dean started the engine. He removed the snack from its foil wrapper and bit into it whole, plastic wrap and all.

Dean shook his head and showed an Angel of the Lord the proper way to consume a Fruit Roll-Up brand fruit snack.

“You mean you have to unroll it?” he asked.

“For the last time _yes_.”

“But then it isn’t even a Roll-Up!” Castiel eyed the packaging intensely. “It’s just...fruit.”

“I don’t even have time to start unpacking that statement because MY BROTHER’S DEAD BODY IS IN THE BED OF THIS TRUCK.” Dean slammed his hand against the dashboard.

Now halfway through his snack, Castiel paused. “Hey, Dean,” he said, placing a sticky hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It seems like you’re taking your brother’s death poorly. I just want you to know I’m here for you.”

Dean looked at the angel comforting him. “Thanks, man,” he said. “It’s just—I’m a little wound up because I called Sam an asshole right before he died and I just really want the chance to take it back.” Dean cracked a smile. “Alright, Castiel. Where to?”

“Well, Castiel said between bites of his artificially-flavored strawberry treat, “We’re going to need to talk to Lucifer.”

***

The mall parking lot was understandably packed, so Dean Winchester would have parked pretty far from it even if he weren’t setting up for a clandestine meeting with the devil. As Castiel unwrapped his sub, Dean asked him why Lucifer wanted to meet here of all places.

“He’s working right now, so we had to meet somewhere he could walk on his break,” Castiel said. “Turns out he has a job at this mall working as some sort of model.”

“A model?”

“Yeah. Apparently the mall charges money to customers to have their pictures taken with him. For whatever reason, most of the takers are children.”

“Goddammit, Cas!” Dean pressed his palm against his face. “We need to meet Satan, not _Santa_!” 

Just then, an approaching man in a white beard and red suit waved to the two. “Dean Winchester!” the man cried out. “How good it is to see you again!” The figure spoke in a voice that Dean would recognize anywhere.

“My god,” Dean said. “It really is you.” Lucifer nodded as he came to a stop. “But what on earth are you doing getting a job as a mall Santa? Isn’t that like...working for the other side?”

“Oh Dean,” Lucifer said. “Impersonating a commercialized saint is hardly doing God’s work.”

“But still. I didn’t see you as the giving type.”

“Forgive me for being so blunt, but Santa Claus has fuck-all to do with _giving_. His entire existence is just a way for parents to outsource that pesky ‘giving’ business to a third party, ensuring that Christmas is only about receiving. And whether it’s about giving or receiving, it still isn’t about Jesus, and I consider that a win for me. Though my favorite part is making promises to the children on my knee that I know their parents can’t keep.” Lucifer laughed. “Poor little girl the other day actually wanted a pony!” He cleared his throat. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean faced the devil. “Well—”

“Sam’s dead,” Castiel said.

“Oh. Again?”

Castiel nodded.

“Huh...” Lucifer sniffed at the air. “Say, Cas, is that a Chicken Carbonara? Think I could maybe have half of that? I _am_ skipping lunch to talk to you to.”

“Stop talking about food and BRING MY BROTHER BACK TO LIFE.” Dean now had Lucifer’s full attention.

“So...it is a resurrection you seek. I warn you, the process will be arduous and the price dear. Death is an inevitable process that cannot be reversed so easily.”

“We’re willing to do whatever it takes,” Dean said, stepping forward.

Lucifer smiled. “ _Anything_?”

Castiel waved Dean away. “I got this one,” he said, mouth still full of sandwich. He pulled what looked like a small business card out of his coat and handed it to the Devil, who examined it closely.

“Ah, I see. Very well then,” Lucifer said. Satisfied, he pocketed the card and handed Castiel another with a smile. He snapped his fingers. “The deed is done. And let me be the first to say that Hell appreciates your patronage. Truly, where would we be without the Winchester boys?” He turned his back to Dean and Castiel and walked back towards the mall. He waved as he left. “Merry Christmas, you three!”

Dean, jaw dropped, turned to Castiel. “What the hell was that all about?” he asked. “Let me see that card.” Dean pried the card out of Castiel’s hands. There were nine numbered circles at the bottom. At the top in bold print were the words: _Tenth resurrection is free! Present fully punched card at participating dealer for free resurrection._ “Is this—”

“A customer loyalty card, yes.” Castiel took the card back and tucked it away safely in his pocket.

“My idea, actually,” Sam said as he jumped out of the back of the truck. 

“SAM!” Dean started to tear up and rushed to hug his brother. “Why didn’t you tell me about this card sooner?”

“I figured you would have noticed Cas getting it stamped the last nine times one of us returned from the dead.” Through the embrace, Sam turned to Castiel. “That reminds me, hey Cas. I could have sworn this was only the ninth time. Weren’t we one short?”

Castiel grinned and held up his Subway bag. “They use the same whole punch for the Subway loyalty program. The cashier barely noticed I had slipped him two cards.”

Dean laughed. “You hear that, brother? Your soul’s worth no more than a Five Dollar Footlong.”

“Goddammit, Dean.” Sam facepalmed. “You’re such an asshole.”

Dean smiled. “You too, buddy. You too.”

**Author's Note:**

> _"And God bless us, Everyone!" Lucifer said, hobbling along on a crutch._
> 
>  
> 
> Merry Christmas to all, and a late Happy Birthday to my dear friend, Jazzmin.


End file.
